Title: The South-West, by a Yankee. In Two Volumes. Volume 2
Author: J. H. Ingraham
Release date: February 3, 2011 [eBook #35156]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Curtis Weyant, Barbara Kosker and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Where on my way I went;
———————— A pilgrim from the North—
Now more and more attracted, as I drew
Nearer and nearer.
ROGERS' ITALY.
| XXIV. | |
| Characteristic scenery of the Mississippi—Card playing—Sabbath on board a steamboat—An old sinner—A fair Virginian—Inquisitiveness of Yankee ladies—Southern ladies—A general—Ellis's cliffs—Mines—Atala—Natchez in the distance—Duelling ground—Fort Rosalie—Forests—A traveller's remark. | 9 |
| XXV. | |
| Land at the Levée—African porters—First impression of passing travellers—"Natchez under the Hill"—A dizzy road—A rapid descentmdash;View from the summit—Fine scenery in the vicinity—Reservoir—A tawny Silenus—A young Apollo—Warriors "hors du combat"—Indian females—Mississippian backwoodsman—Mansion House. | 17 |
| XXVI. | |
| A northerner's idea of the south-west—Natchez and health—"Broadway" of Natchez—Street scenes—Private carriages—Auction store—Sale of a slave—Manner in which slaves view slavery—Shopping—Fashion—Southern gentlemen—Merchants—Planters—Whip bearers—Planters' families. | 27 |
| XXVII. | |
| First impressions—American want of taste in public buildings— Agricultural bank—Masonic hall—Natchez academy—Education of Mississippians—Cemetery—Theatre—Presbyterian church—Court-house —Episcopal church—Light-house—Hotels—Planters, Houses and galleries—Jefferson hotel—Cotton square. | 36 |
| XXVIII. | |
| Society of Natchez—New-England adventurers—Their prospects—The Yankee sisterhood—Southern bachelors—Southern society—Woman—Her past and present condition—Single combats—Fireside pleasures unknown—A change—Town and country—Characteristic discrepancies. | 45 |
| XXIX. | |
| A Sabbath morning in Natchez—A ramble to the bluff—Louisiana forests—Natchez under the Hill—Slaves—Holidays—Negroes going to church—Negro street coteries—Market day—City hotel—Description of the landing—Rail-way—A rendezvous—Neglected Sabbath-bell. | 52 |
| XXX. | |
| Reminiscences—An aged pastor—Streets of Natchez on the Sabbath—Interior of a church—Church music—Pulpit oratory—A New England scene—Peculiar state of society—Wealthy ministers—Clerical planters—Health of Mississippi—Episcopalian church—Catholics—The French language—Catholic education—Methodists—An alarm bell and slaves. | 62 |
| XXXI. | |
| Catholic burying-ground—Evening in a grave yard—Sounds of a busy city—Night—Disturbers of the dead—Dishumation of human remains—Mourning cards—A funeral—Various modes of riding—Yankee horsemanship—Mississippian horsemen—Pacers—A plantation road—Residence—The grave—Slaves weeping for their master!—New cemetery. | 73 |
| XXXII. | |
| National diversities of character—Diversities of language— Provincialisms—A plantation and negroes—Natchez bar—A youthful judge—Physicians—Clergymen—Merchants, &c. &c.—A southern mania—"Washing"—Tobacco—Value of cotton planting and statistics—An easy "way to wealth." | 84 |
| XXXIII. | |
| An excursion—A planter's gallery—Neglect of grounds—Taste and economy—Mississippi forests—The St. Catharine—Cotton fields—Worm fences—Hedges—The pride of China—The magnolia tree and flower— Plantation roads—White cliffs—General view of a plantation. | 96 |
| XXXIV. | |
| Horticulture—Chateaubriand—A Mississippi garden and plants—A novel scene—Sick slaves—Care of masters for their sick—Shamming— Inertness of negroes—Burial of slaves—Negro mothers—A nursery— Negro village on the Sabbath—Religious privileges of slaves— Marriages—Negro "passes"—The advantages of this regulation— Anecdote of a runaway. | 113 |
| XXXV. | |
| Preparations for a deer hunt—A sailor, a planter, and an author—A deer driver—"Stands" for deer—The hunting ground—The hunt—Ellis's cliff—Silver mine—An hypothesis—Alluvial formation of the lower valley of the Mississippi—Geological descriptions of the south-west. | 132 |
| XXXVI. | |
| Geography of Mississippi—Ridges and bottoms—The Mississippi at its efflux—Pine and table lands—General features of the state— Bayous—Back-water of rivers—Springs—St. Catharine's harp— Bankston springs—Mineral waters of this state—Petrifactions—Quartz crystals—"Thunderbolts"—Rivers—The Yazoo and Pearl. | 146 |
| XXXVII. | |
| Topography—Natchez—Washington—Seltzertown—Greenville—Port Gibson—Raymond—Clinton—Southern villages—Vicksburg—Yeomen of Mississippi—Jackson—Vernon—Satartia—Benton—Amsterdam—Brandon and other towns—Monticello—Manchester—Rankin—Grand Gulf—Rodney—Warrenton—Woodville—Pinckneyville—White Apple village. | 159 |
| XXXVIII. | |
| Coloured population of the south—Mississippi saddle and horse caparisons—Ride through the city—Chain gang—Lynch law—Want of a penitentiary—Difficulties in consequence—Summary justice—Boating on the Mississippi—Chain gang and the runaway—Suburbs—Orphan asylum—A past era. | 182 |
| XXXIX. | |
| Slave mart—Scene within—File of negroes—"Trader"—Negro feelings—George and his purchaser—George's old and new wife—Female slaves—The intellect of the negro—A theory—An elderly lady and her slaves—Views of slaves upon their condition—Separation of kindred among slaves. | 192 |
| XL. | |
| Towns of Mississippi—Naming estates—The influence of towns on the social relations of the planters—Southern refinement—Colleges—Oakland—Clinton—Jefferson—History of the latter—Collegiate system of instruction—Primary departments—Quadrennial classes. | 204 |
| XLI. | |
| Indian mounds—Their origin and object—Tumuli near Natchez—Skulls and other remains—Visit to the fortifications or mounds at Seltzertown—Appearance and description of the mounds—Their age—Reflections—History of the Natchez. | 215 |
| XLII. | |
| Slavery in the south-west—Southern feelings—Increase of slaves—Virginia—Mode of buying slaves, and slave-traders—Mode of transportation by sea—Arrival at the mart—Mode of life in the market—Transportation by land—Privileges of slaves—Conduct of planters toward their negroes—Anecdotes—Negro traders—Their origin. | 231 |
| XLIII. | |
| Slaves—Classes—Anecdotes—Negro instruction—Police—Natchez fencibles—Habitual awe of the negro for the white man—Illustrations—Religious slaves—Negro preaching—General view of slavery and emancipation—Conclusion. | 247 |
Characteristic scenery of the Mississippi—Card-playing—Sabbath on board a steamboat—An old sinner—A fair Virginian—Inquisitiveness of Yankee ladies—Southern ladies—A general—Ellis's cliffs—Mines—Atala—Natchez in the distance—Duelling ground—Fort Rosalie—Forests—A traveller's remark.
The rich and luxuriant character of the scenery, which charms and attracts the eye of the traveller as he ascends the Mississippi from New-Orleans to Baton Rouge, is now changed. A broad, turbid flood, rolling through a land of vast forests, alone meets the eye, giving sublime yet wild and gloomy features to the scene. On looking from the cabin window, I see only a long, unbroken line of cotton trees, with their pale green foliage, as dull and void of interest as a fog-bank. The opposite shore presents the same appearance; and so it is, with the occasional relief of a plantation and a "landing place," comprising a few buildings, the whole distance to Natchez. A wretched cabin, now and then, varies the wild appearance of the banks—the home of some solitary wood-cutter. Therefore, as I cannot give you descriptions of things abroad, I must give you an account of persons on board.
There are in the cabin about forty passengers, of both sexes. Two of the most genteel-looking among them, so far as dress goes, I am told, are professed "black-legs;" or, as they more courteously style themselves, "sporting gentlemen."—There is an organized body of these ci-devant gentry upon the river, who have local agents in every town, and travelling agents on board the principal steamboats. In the guise of gentlemen, they "take in" the unwary passenger and unskilful player, from whom they often obtain large sums of money. I might relate many anecdotes illustrative of their mode of operating upon their victims; but I defer them to some future occasion. As the same sportsmen do not go twice in the same boat, the captains do not become so familiar with their persons as to refuse them passage, were they so inclined. It is very seldom, however, when they are known, that they are denied a passage, as gambling is not only permitted but encouraged on most of the boats, by carrying a supply of cards in the bar, for the use of the passengers. Even the sanctity of the Sabbath is no check to this amusement: all day yesterday the tables were surrounded with players, at two of which they were dealing "faro;" at the third playing "brag." And this was on the Sabbath! Indeed the day was utterly disregarded by nearly every individual on board. Travelling is a sad demoralizer. My fellow-passengers seemed to have adopted the sailors' maxim, "no Sunday off soundings." Their religion was laid by for shore use. One good, clever-looking old lady, was busily engaged all the morning hemming a handkerchief; when some one remarked near her, "This time last Sunday we made the Balize."—"Sunday! to-day Sunday!" she exclaimed, in the utmost consternation, "Is to-day Sunday, sir?"
"It is indeed, madam."
"Oh, me! what a wicked sinner I am! O dear, that I should sew on Sunday!"—and away she tottered to her state-room, amidst the pitiless laughter of the passengers, with both hands elevated in horror, and ejaculating, "Oh me! what a wicked sinner! How could I forget!" In a short time she returned with a Bible; and I verily believe that she did not take her eyes from it the remainder of the day, unless it might be to wipe her spectacles.—Good old soul! she was leaven to the whole lump of our ungodly company.
There are several French gentlemen; one important looking personage, who bears the title of general, and seems amply to feel the dignity it confers; three or four Mississippi cotton planters, in large, low-crowned, broad-brimmed, white fur hats, wearing their clothes in a careless, half sailor-like, half gentleman-like air, dashed with a small touch of the farmer, which style of dressing is peculiar to the Mississippi country gentleman. They are talking about negroes, rail-roads, and towing shipping. There is also a travelling Yankee lawyer, in a plain, stiff, black coat, closely buttoned up to his chin, strait trowsers, narrow hat, and gloves—the very antipodes, in appearance, to the non chalant, easy, care-for-nothing air of his southern neighbours. A Methodist minister, in a bottle-green frock coat, fancy vest, black stock, white pantaloons and white hat, is sitting apart by the stove, deeply engaged upon the pages of a little volume, like a hymn-book. Any other dress than uniform black for a minister, would, at the north, be deemed highly improper, custom having thus so decided; but here they wear just what Providence sends them or their own taste dictates. There are two or three fat men, in gray and blue—a brace of bluff, manly-looking Germans—a lynx-eyed, sharp-nosed New-York speculator—four old French Jews, with those noble foreheads, arched brows, and strange-expressioned eyes, that look as though always weeping—the well-known and never to be mistaken characteristics of this remarkable people. The remainder of our passengers present no peculiarities worth remarking. So I throw them in, tall and short, little and big, and all sorts and sizes, to complete the motley "ensemble" of my fellow-travellers.
Among the ladies, besides the aged sinner of the pocket-handkerchief, are a beautiful, dark-eyed, dark-haired Virginian, and an intelligent, young married lady from Vermont, accompanied by her only child, a handsome, spirited boy, between four and five years of age. The little fellow and I soon became great friends; in testimony whereof, he is now teasing me to allow him to scrawl his enormous pot-hooks over my sheet, by way of assisting me in my letter. An apology for his rudeness, by his mother, opened the way for a conversation; during which I discovered that she possessed a highly cultivated mind, great curiosity, as a stranger in a strange land, and her full share of Yankee inquisitiveness. She was always upon the "guard," resolved that nothing worthy of observation should escape her inquiring eye. She was a pure New-England interrogative. So far as it was in my power, it afforded me pleasure to reply to her questions, which, as a stranger to southern scenery, manners and customs, it was very natural she should put to any one. With a southerner I might have journeyed from Montreal to Mexico, without being questioned so often as I have been in this short passage from New-Orleans. But unless we can answer their innumerable questions, (which, by the way, are most usually of a strongly intelligent cast), travelling Yankee ladies are certainly, unless young and pretty, a little annoying. I mean, always, the inquisitive ones; for there are some who are far from being so. When a northerner is not inquisitive, the fact may generally be ascribed to intellectual dullness, or an uncultivated mind: in a southerner, to constitutional indolence and love of quiet, which are enemies to one jot more corporeal or mental exertion than is absolutely requisite to enable them to glide through existence. I do not rank my fellow-traveller in the class of the troublesome inquisitives—though full of curiosity, compared with the "daughters of the sun,"—but she is no more so than any intelligent person should be in a strange, and by no means uninteresting country.
"The general" is quite the lion on board. It would amuse you to observe the gaping mouths, fixed eyes, and attentive looks around, when the general speaks. He is the oracle—the ne plus ultra of excellence—the phoenix of generals!
By this time you must be wearied with my prosing about persons of whom you know nothing, and are probably waiting for more interesting subjects for description. Thus far, with the exception of one bluff, with a few buildings perched upon its summit, there has been no variety in the monotony of the gloomy forests which overhang the river.
Ellis's cliffs, which present the wildest and most romantic scenery upon the Mississippi below St. Louis, are now in sight. They rise proudly from the river, and compared with the tame features of the country, are invested with the dignity of mountains. They exhibit a white perpendicular face to the river, and are about one hundred and fifty feet in height. Gold and silver ore have been lately found in the strata of the cliffs; but not in sufficient purity and quantity to induce the proprietors to excavate in search of them. Here are discovered the first stones—small pebbles of recent formation—that are seen on ascending the river. The surrounding country, which is nearly on a level with the summit of the cliffs, recedes pleasantly undulating from the river, rich with highly cultivated cotton plantations, and ornamented with the elegant residences of the planters. It is said that few countries in the world possess a more beautifully diversified surface—or one more pleasantly distributed in hills and valleys. In the vicinity also, of this romantic spot, Chateaubriand has laid some of the scenes of his wild and splendid fiction "Atala."
We are now within twenty miles of Natchez. The river is here very circuitous, making the distance much greater than by land. The shores continue to exhibit the peculiarly gloomy and inhospitable features which, with the occasional exception of a high bluff, plantation or village, they present nearly to the mouth of the Ohio. The loud and startling report of a cannon in the bows of the boat, making her stagger and tremble through every beam, is the signal that our port is in sight—a pile of gray and white cliffs with here and there a church steeple, a roof elevated above its summit, and a light-house hanging on the verge! At the foot of the bluffs are long straggling lines of wooden buildings, principally stores and store-houses; the Levée is fringed with flat boats and steamers, and above all, tower majestically the masts of two or three ships. The whole prospect from the deck presents an interesting scene of commercial life and bustle. But this is not Natchez! The city proper is built upon the summit level, the tops of whose buildings and trees can be seen from the boat, rising higher than the cliff. The ascent from the lower town, or as it is commonly designated, "under the hill", is by an excavated road, of moderate elevation. The whole appearance of the place from the deck is highly romantic. On our left, opposite Natchez, is Vidalia, in Louisiana, a pleasant village of a few houses, built on one street parallel with the river. Here, in a pleasant grove above the town, is the "field of honour," where gentlemen from Mississippi occasionally exchange leaden cards—all in the way of friendship.
On our right, a few hundred yards below Natchez, crowning a noble eminence, stand the ruins of Fort Rosalie, celebrated in the early history of this country. Its garrison early in the last century was massacred, by the Natchez tribe, to a single man, who escaped by leaping from the precipice. Here is the principal scene of Chateaubriand's celebrated romance. The position of the fort, in a military point of view, commanding, as it does, a great extent of river and country, is well chosen. Beyond the fort, a peep at rich woods, green hills, and tasteful country-seats, is agreeably refreshing to the eye, so long accustomed to gaze upon melancholy forests, and dead flats covered with cane-brakes. Indeed, the mournful character of the forests along the Mississippi, is calculated to fill the mind with gloom. The long black moss, well known at the north as the "Carolina moss", hangs in immense fringes from every limb, frequently enveloping the whole tree in its sombre garb. The forests thus clothed present a dismal yet majestic appearance. As the traveller gazes upon them his mind partakes of their funereal character, and the imagination is ready to assent to the strong and highly poetical remark of a gentleman on board, with whom I was promenading the "guard," who observed that it would seem that the Deity was dead, and that nature had clothed herself in mourning.
Land at the Levée—African porters—First impression of passing travellers—"Natchez under the Hill"—A dizzy road—A rapid descent—View from the summit—Fine scenery in the vicinity—Reservoir—A tawny Silenus—A young Apollo—Warriors "hors du combat"—Indian females—Mississippian backwoodsmen—Mansion House.
Since the date of my last letter, a period sufficiently long to enable me to make my observations with correctness has elapsed; and from memoranda collected during the interval, I shall prepare this and subsequent letters from this place.
We landed last evening at the Levée, amid the excitement, noise, and confusion which always attend the arrival or departure of a steamer in any place. But here the tumult was varied and increased by the incessant jabbering, hauling, pulling, kicking and thumping, of some score or two of ebony-cheeked men and urchins, who were tumbling over each other's heads to get the first trunk.
"Trunk, massa—trunk! I take you baggage".
"You get out, for a nigger!" exclaimed a tall, strapping fellow, as black as night, to his brother ebony. "I'm the gemman, massa, what care de trunk." "Dis nigger, him know noffing, massa—I'm what's always waits on um gentlemans from de boats!" roared another; and stooping to take one of the handles, the other was instantly grappled by a rival, and both giving a simultaneous jerk, the subject of the contest flew violently from their hands, and was instantly caught up by the first "gemman", and borne off in triumph. This little by-play was acted, with variations, in every part of the cabin, where there was either a gentleman or a trunk to form the subject.
On landing, there was yet another trial of the tympanum.
"Carriage, massa—mighty bad hill to walk up!" was vociferated on all sides; and
"No, no, no!" was no argument with them for a cessation of attack; denial only made them more obstinate; and, like true soldiers, they seemed to derive courage from defeat.
Forcing my way through the dingy crowd—for four out of five of them were black, and, "by the same token", as ragged as Falstaff's regiment, of shirtless memory—I followed my athletic pioneer; who, with my heavy baggage poised accurately upon his head, moved as rapidly and carelessly along the thronged Levée as though he carried no weight but his own thick cranium. On looking round me for a moment, on landing, I was far from agreeably impressed with the general appearance of the buildings. This part of the town is not properly Natchez—and strangers passing up and down the river, who have had the opportunity of seeing only this place, have, without dreaming of the beautiful city over their heads, gone on their way, with impressions very inaccurate and unfavourable. These impressions, derived only, but justly, from this repulsive spot, have had a tendency to depreciate the city, and fasten upon it a bad name, which it is very far from meriting. Like the celebrated "Five Points," in New-York, "Natchez under the Hill," as it has been aptly named, has extended its fame throughout the United States, in wretched rhyme and viler story. For many years it has been the nucleus of vice upon the Mississippi. But, for two or three years past, the establishment of respectable mercantile houses, and an excellent hotel, combined with an efficient police, and a spirit of moral reform among the citizens, has, in a great measure, redeemed the place—changed its repulsive character and cancelled its disgraceful name. Though now on the high way of reform, there is still enough of the cloven-hoof visible, to enable the stranger to recognise that its former reputation was well earned.
The principal street, which terminates at the ascent of the hill, runs parallel with the river, and is lined on either side with a row of old wooden houses; which are alternately gambling-houses, brothels, and bar-rooms: a fair assemblage! As we passed through the street—which we gained with difficulty from the boat, picking our way to it as we could, through a filthy alley—the low, broken, half-sunken side-walks, were blocked up with fashionably-dressed young men, smoking or lounging, tawdrily arrayed, highly rouged females, sailors, Kentucky boatmen, negroes, negresses, mulattoes, pigs, dogs, and dirty children. The sounds of profanity and Bacchanalian revels, well harmonizing with the scene, assailed our ears as we passed hastily along, through an atmosphere of tobacco smoke and other equally fragrant odours. After a short walk we emerged into a purer air, and in front of a very neat and well-conducted hotel. From near this place, extending along the Levée to the north, commences the mercantile part of the "landing," lined with stores and extensive warehouses, in which is transacted a very heavy business. The whole of this lower town is built upon a reclaimed flat, from one to two hundred yards broad, and half a mile in length; bounded upon one side by the river, and on the other by the cliff or bluff, upon which Natchez stands, and which rises abruptly from the Batture, to the height of one hundred and sixty feet. This bluff extends along the river, more or less varied and broken, for several miles; though at no point so abrupt and bold as here, where it bears the peculiar characteristics of the wild scenery of "Dover cliffs." The face of the cliff at Natchez is not a uniform precipice, but, apparently by the provident foresight of nature, broken by an oblique shelf or platform, gradually inclining from the summit to the base. With but a little excavation, a fine road has been constructed along this way, with an inclination sufficiently gentle to enable the heaviest teams to ascend with comparative ease. One side of the road is of course bounded by a perpendicular cliff; the other by empty air and a dizzy precipice: so that the unwary foot-traveller, involved amid the ascent and descent of drays, carriages, horsemen, and porters, enjoys a tolerably fair alternative of being squeezed uncomfortably close against the bluff, or pitched, with a summerset, into some of the yawning chimneys on the flats beneath. For the whole length of this ascent, which is nearly a quarter of a mile, there is no kind of guard for the protection of the passengers. Yet, I have been told, no lives have ever been lost here. One poor fellow, a short time since, having taken a drop too much, and reeling too near the verge, lost his equilibrium, and over he went. But it is hard to kill a drunkard, except with the "pure spirit" itself; and the actor in this "drop scene" being "a gem of sweet Erin," stuck to the sod, and slid comfortably, though rapidly, to the bottom. The next moment he was seen gathering himself up out of a sand-heap, with "By St. Pathrick! but that was a jewel of a lape!—and it's my bright new baiver castor that's smashed by it to smitherins."
On arriving at the summit of the hill, I delayed a moment, for the double purpose of taking breath and surveying the scene spread out around me. Beneath lay the roofs of warehouses, stores, and dwellings, scattered over a flat, sandy surface, which was bordered, on the water side, by hundreds of up-country flat-boats, laden with the produce of the rich farming states bordering the Ohio and "Upper Mississippi." Lower down, steamers were taking in and discharging freight; while the mingled sounds of the busy multitude rose like the hum of a hive upon the ear. Immediately opposite me lay two ships, which, with their towering masts, gay flags, and dark hulls, agreeably relieved the otherwise long and unbroken line of boats. To the north the river spreads its noble bosom till lost in the distance; while the continuous line of cliffs, extending along its shore like a giant wall, seem to speak in the language of power, "thus far shalt thou flow and no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." To the south, the view is confined by the near projection of the obtruding cliffs. Yet the river stretches boldly out many miles on its course toward the sea, till lost to sight within the bosom of the distant forests which bound the southern horizon. To the west, the eye travels over the majestic breadth of the river, here a mile wide, and rests for a moment upon level and richly cultivated fields beyond, a quiet village and noble forests, which spread away to the west like a vast sea of waving foliage, till they blend with the bending sky, forming a level and unbroken horizon. Turning from this scene of grandeur and beauty to the east, Natchez, mantled with rich green foliage like a garment, with its handsome structures and fine avenues, here a dome and there a tower, lies immediately before me. It is the very contrast to its straggling namesake below. The city proper consists of six streets, at right angles with the river, intersected by seven others of the same length, parallel with the stream. The front, or first parallel street, is laid out about one hundred yards back from the verge of the bluff, leaving a noble green esplanade along the front of the city, which not only adds to its beauty, but is highly useful as a promenade and parade ground. Shade trees are planted along the border, near the verge of the precipice, beneath which are placed benches, for the comfort of the lounger. From this place the eye commands one of the most extensive prospects to be found on the Mississippi. To a spectator, standing in the centre of this broad, natural terrace, the symmetrical arrangement of the artificial scenery around him is highly picturesque and pleasing.
On his right, to the south, a noble colonnaded structure, whose heavy appearance is gracefully relieved by shrubbery, parterres, and a light latticed summer-house, crowning a gentle eminence in the rear, and half suspended over the precipice, strikes his eye with a fine effect. From this admirable foreground, gently sloping hills, with here and there a white dwelling, half concealed in foliage, spread away into the country. Between this edifice and the forest back ground rise the romantic ruins of Fort Rosalie, now enamelled with a rich coating of verdure. On his left, at the northern extremity of the esplanade, upon the beautiful eminence, gradually yet roundly swelling away from the promenade, stands another private residence, nearly resembling and directly opposite to the other, its lofty colonnades glancing in the sun—a magnificent garden spreading out around it, luxuriant with foliage—diversified with avenues and terraces, and adorned with grottoes and summer-houses. Imagine these handsome residences, flanking the city, and forming the extreme northern and southern terminations of the broad terrace before the town, with the mighty flood of the Mississippi rolling some hundred feet beneath you—the dark forests of Louisiana stretching away to infinity in the west, with Natchez—its streets alive with promenaders, gay equipages and horsemen—immediately before you, and you will form some idea of this beautiful city and its environs from this point. But as the spot upon which the town is built, originally a cluster of green hills, has been, by levelling and filling, converted into a smooth surface, with a very slight inclination to the verge of the cliff, a small portion only of the city is visible. The buildings on the front street face the river, and, with the exception of one or two private houses, with galleries and shrubbery, reminding one of the neat and beautiful residences on the "coast,"[1] possess no peculiar interest. The town is entered from the parade by rude bridges at the termination of each street, spanning a dry, dilapidated brick aqueduct of large dimensions, which has been constructed along the whole front of the city, but is now, from some unknown cause, suffered to fall to ruin. It was probably intended as a reservoir and conductor of the water which, after heavy rains, rushes violently down the several streets of the city.
As I was crossing from the bluff to the entrance of one of the principal streets—a beautiful avenue bordered with the luxuriant China tree, whose dark rich foliage, nearly meeting above, formed a continued arcade as far as the eye could penetrate—my attention was arrested by an extraordinary group, reclining in various attitudes under the grateful shade of the ornamental trees which lined the way. With his back firmly planted against a tree, as though there existed a sympathetic affinity between the two, sat an athletic Indian with the neck of a black bottle thrust down his throat, while the opposite extremity pointed to the heavens. Between his left forefinger and thumb he held a corncob, as a substitute for a stopper. By his side, his blanket hanging in easy folds from his shoulders, stood a tall, fine-looking youth, probably his son, his raven hair falling in masses over his back, with his black eyes fixed upon the elder Indian, as a faithful dog will watch each movement of his intemperate master. One hand supported a rifle, while another was carelessly suspended over his shoulder. There was no change in this group while I remained in sight; they were as immoveable as statues. A little in the rear, lay several "warriors" fast locked in the arms of Bacchus or Somnus, (probably both,) their rifles lying beside them. Near them a knot of embryo chiefs were gamboling in all the glorious freedom of "sans culottes". At a little distance, half concealed by huge baskets apparently just unstrapped from their backs, filled with the motley paraphernalia of an Indian lady's wardrobe, sat, cross-legged, a score of dark-eyed, brown-skinned girls and women, laughing and talking in their soft, childish language, as merrily as any ladies would have done, whose "lords" lay thus supine at their feet. Half a score of miserable, starved wretches, "mongrel, whelp and hound," which it were an insult to the noble species to term dogs, wandering about like unburied ghosts "seeking what they might devour," completed the novel and picturesque ensemble of the scene.
On the opposite side of the way was another of a different character, but not less interesting. Seated in a circle around their bread and cheese, were half a dozen as rough, rude, honest-looking countrymen from the back part of the state, as you could find in the nursery of New-England's yeomanry. They are small farmers—own a few negroes—cultivate a small tract of land, and raise a few bales of cotton, which they bring to market themselves. Their carts are drawn around them forming a barricade to their camp, for here, as is customary among them, instead of putting up at taverns, they have encamped since their arrival. Between them and their carts are their negroes, who assume a "cheek by jowl" familiarity with their masters, while jokes, to season their homely fare, accompanied by astounding horse-laughs, from ivory-lined mouths that might convey a very tolerable idea of the crater of Etna, pass from one group to the other, with perfect good will and a mutual contempt for the nicer distinctions of colour.
Crossing the narrow bridge, I entered at once into the body of the city, which is built as compactly within itself and aloof from the suburbs as though it were separated from them by a wall; and in a few moments, after traversing two sides of a well-built square on fine side walks, I arrived at the "Mansion house," an extensive and commodious brick edifice said to be one of the best hotels in the south west—except Bishop's—agreeably impressed with this, my first coup d'œil of a city, so extensively celebrated for the opulence, taste and hospitality of its inhabitants.